


Moments in Grayscale (and Eternity in Color)

by princessoftheworlds



Series: fool me once, fool me twice [3]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Ianto Jones' Birthday, Immortal Ianto Jones, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25987648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessoftheworlds/pseuds/princessoftheworlds
Summary: Five birthdays Ianto Jones spent alone and one he didn't.
Relationships: Ianto Jones/Original Female Character(s), Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Lisa Hallett/Ianto Jones
Series: fool me once, fool me twice [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819213
Comments: 23
Kudos: 57
Collections: Torchwood Fan Fests: Bingo Fest 2020





	Moments in Grayscale (and Eternity in Color)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [juliana677](https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliana677/gifts).



> Haha! I did promise a fool me once, fool me twice spinoff eventually, although I didn't mean for it to be this one! I had so many other ideas. Actually, I was going to write a James Bond-inspired AU for Ianto's birthday, but I ran out of time and figured I wouldn't write anything. Then I signed up for the Torchwood Fan Fest Bingo Fest and got my card, and so many of the squares seemed perfect for the fool me once, fool me twice 'verse so I figured I'd knock them out.
> 
> I'd definitely recommend reading fool me once, fool me twice before this, but I guess it still works if you haven't, but also, go read it please????? 
> 
> Anyways, thanks to Jewels for editing.
> 
> Happy Birthday, Ianto Jones!

**2006**

**Cardiff**

“Happy birthday to me,” Ianto Jones murmurs as he gazes upon the sole candle in the cupcake, its flame flickering pitifully. With a quick huff of air, he puts the candle out of its misery before pulling it out and setting it aside, licking the traces of icing from his fingers. The flavor’s dark chocolate, a perfect counterbalance to the slightly bitter coffee cake. 

Neatly, he unwraps the cupcake and spreads the wrapper flat beneath the plate. He cuts the dessert into four precise pieces before venturing a glance around his flat. The walls are stained and cracked to match the faded carpet, a spring from the battered and garishly green couch - the only other furniture besides the lamp in the otherwise bare living room - is jabbing Ianto in the side, and there is no one for him to celebrate his cupcake with. 

“This is what twenty-three looks like, Ianto,” he tells himself, wrapping his fingers around a wedge of cake. He is mindful of spilling crumbs, but they scatter on the carpet nonetheless. Never mind them; he’ll just vacuum later. “Here’s to another year of miserable existence.”

This wasn’t how he saw his twenty-third birthday going. It was meant to be spent with Lisa, both of them painfully dressed up - even beyond Ianto’s regular suits - for the reservation at the fancy restaurant Yvonne always insisted on making for his birthdays that they could otherwise not afford. Dinner would be followed up by the marathon of James Bond movies that Lisa indulged him in, and they would finish the night with a round of sweet lovemaking.

Now, Lisa lies practically comatose in the basement of the Torchwood Hub. Apart from checking her vitals, Ianto had not a chance to attempt to rouse her, most of the day spent cleaning up after the team following a particularly nasty encounter with a Hoix. Not that any of his new colleagues remembered - or even knew - Ianto’s birthday. Not even Captain Harkness. Then again, after the first two weeks of heavy-handed innuendo, the captain has downgraded to playful banter; other than that, Ianto has become pretty much invisible in the captain’s eyes, which is as it should be. It makes it easier for him to tend to Lisa.

Yet it doesn’t explain the slight aching to Ianto’s heart every time Jack’s eyes glance off of him like he’s wearing a perception filter. It doesn’t explain anything at all.

Ianto sighs and takes a bite of the cake, catching crumbs in his cupped hand, and allows the dark chocolate icing to melt on his tongue. The sweetness does nothing to quell the stab of loneliness he feels. Now apathetic, he brushes the crumbs off his palm and watches them fall, dark spots amongst the fraying shag of the carpet.

“Next year,” he vows, “next year, I won’t be alone.”

Next year, he’ll have Lisa by his side. She’ll be safe and healthy, and they’ll be happy, with Torchwood and Captain Jack Harkness long in their past.

* * *

**3010**

**_The Thurn_ **

_The Thurn_ is the shabbiest space cruiser Ianto has had the misery to see so far, and in his last several months in space, he’s had the opportunity to see many. Still, he doesn’t have the right to complain; he’s paying the way for his transport across this galaxy through unpaid labor, and as the only human, he already sticks out like a sore thumb.

Jack hasn’t teleported anywhere in a while, which leads Ianto to believe that he’s currently taking the longer way across the universe and forcing Ianto to do so too. In fact, it’s been several weeks since he first boarded this cruiser, and the lack of sun - or moon, really - makes it hard to tell when time passes. The different calendar systems for each planet or galaxy doesn’t help either.

Which is why when, this morning, Ianto flipped over in his narrow bunk and realized that today should be his twenty-seventh birthday, he continued laying there, listless. Actually, he kept laying there for so long, the minutes creeping away, that he nearly encroached into the first hour of his shift. He only had a few minutes to use the decontamination lasers or else he would have remained sweaty and streaked with yesterday’s dirt from shifting boxes in the cruiser’s storage hold until the next day.

Several hours later, and those fatigued feelings still haven’t faded; they persist past lunch, when Ianto shuffles into the tiny break room with his four other indebted colleagues and accepts beige slop on his plate. It’s the same beige slop they’re fed every day and tastes faintly of bananas. Ianto doesn’t think he’ll be able to eat bananas ever again without vomiting, but then again, immortality means he has an eternity for these memories to fade. 

Not to sound cliched, but Ianto would kill for a coffee. He hasn’t had coffee since the Rift spit him out in Brileia, and so far, he hasn’t found a stimulant that tastes vaguely like coffee or has a similar effect on him. He thinks the lack of coffee might frustrate him even more than his inability to find his boyfriend.

_He was never your boyfriend_ , Ianto reminds himself, shoulders slumping. _He didn’t even like the word “couple.”_

The piercing whistle of the cruiser’s hourly alarm signals that it is time for Ianto and his tentacled colleagues to return to work. None of them make a word aside from grunting. No one talks to Ianto the entire day, actually. The most communication he gets is a slight grunt when he accidentally shoves a box too close to a tentacle.

Ianto’s sore muscles scream in protest when he finally slips into his bunk again hours later, but the mattress is hard, basically the equivalent of sleeping on a rock. His body gets virtually no relief. No matter; he slept in worse conditions his first few weeks in London.

“Ianto Jones in space,” he whispers to himself. Except the novelty has worn off, even for a _Star Wars_ fan like Ianto. He doesn’t think he has a Yoda somewhere out there in the universe who will lead him to Jack.

Ianto tries not to think about how his last birthday was spent with Jack, Gwen, and Rhys in a pub before Jack made love to him on the roof of the Millenium Centre. It’s their equivalent of how he and Lisa used to celebrate.

He clings to the memories of Jack’s crooked smile and mischievous eyes illuminated in the moonlight and lets them carry him off to sleep.

* * *

**3197**

**Leev**

Almost two hundred years later, Ianto is alone again. 

He sits next to the babbling brook in the forest, one of the only forests on Leev left unharmed, and pours himself another drink of the potent Leevan rum. He’s not too inebriated to allow himself to drink directly from the bottle yet. It’s his birthday, he’s one thousand two hundred and fourteen, and it’s the anniversary of his wife’s death. 

Ariadne loved this brook, loved this little clearing in the forest where sunlight dapples the green mossy ground and the roots of trees form winding nests beneath Ianto’s feet. She’d brought him here early after their wedding. She insisted that they bring Huw here once a year to celebrate Ianto’s birthday. When Ariadne died and her body was cremated, Ianto hid behind the trees and watched his son pour her ashes into the brook she’d once splashed around in. Huw also left a bottle of his father’s favorite rum leaning next to a rock, the very same flavor of rum Ianto is now drinking. 

“There’s not too many left of us now, Ariadne,” he tells her, leaning against that rock, bare feet dipped in the brook. “Huw’s gone and so is his husband.” He grins toothily, remembering how Ariadne had teased him for his smile, and muffles a quiet sob. “I never got to meet him, you know? But I watched you hand our Huw away at their wedding, and his smile… _oh_ , Huw’s smile was exactly yours.”

He lost Ariadne almost eight decades ago - but she lost him so much earlier than that, and the pain still hasn’t faded. He hasn’t forgotten her. (Nor has he forgotten Jack.)

“It’s my birthday.” Ianto takes a messy swig from his glass, relishing the deep plum taste of liquor. “It’s my birthday, and I’m alone again. Perpetually alone.” He snorts bitterly. “In fact, I believe that I’ve been alone for more birthdays than ones I’ve actually spent with my loved ones.”

_You’re far too dramatic_ , _Ianto_ , comes Ariadne’s teasing voice in his head, sounding just as sweet and crystalline as it had in life. _Thankfully_ , _Huw didn’t inherit that from you_.

Ianto chuckles, unconsciously rubbing the smooth leather strap of his vortex manipulator. “No, instead he got your sulky temperament.”

_That’s rather unfair of you_ , chimes a new voice. Even, booming, masculine. It’s Jack. _I seem to remember you being a level ten sulker_ . _There was that time I accidentally used your new tie as bondage gear. I had no coffee for_ days _._

“Shut it, Jack,” snaps Ianto, but he’s momentarily smiling widely. “You’re such a hypocrite, Harkness. You literally sulked on rooftops like a Bryonic character.” Then he sighs, shaking his head. “I’ve resorted to having conversations with my dead lovers in my head.”

_I’m not dead_ , Jack says.

“Yeah, but you might as well be for how elusive you are.”

Jack snorts. _It’s not like you’re actively looking for me right now_.

He’s right, of course. Despite Ariadne and Huw being long dead, Ianto’s still on Leev instead of somewhere in the galaxy searching for Jack. Yet Ianto’s time on Leev isn’t finished. While his granddaughter Rhia remains alive, Ianto won’t be leaving the colony he calls his home. He has his family to continue looking over. 

Ianto drops his glass and tilts the bottle to his mouth until he drains the bottle, drinking for the dizzy effect of the rum now rather than the flavor. “It’s my birthday,” he says. 

Maybe he can buy himself one of those pastries that vaguely resemble cinnamon rolls from the food stalls that line the village center.

* * *

**4444**

**Tenebrosity**

_“Are you sure you want to do this?” asks an unusually sober Ianto, and Jack tightens his grip around Ianto’s hand, their fingers interwoven together. A paper-wrapped bottle of wine is tucked in the crook of his opposite elbow as he and Ianto hesitate before the curb that leads up to the house. “We can still turn back right now...go home and watch Star Wars.” He hopes that he doesn’t sound too eager._

_Jack snorts playfully. “Of course I want to do this. Why would I not? They’re your family; they’re important to you.” Reaching over, he prods Ianto gently in the side. “Plus, you met Alice, and surprisingly, she liked you!” He then beams. “Makes sense. She is my daughter after all.”_

_And hadn’t that been an awkward dinner to begin with, Alice glaring at the man she was sure was her father’s new sidepiece, soon to be abandoned like Jack abandoned everyone else. It wasn’t until Jack had run upstairs to play with Steven that Ianto had managed to charm Alice into warming up to him a little._

_“Rhiannon will probably overburden you with her prying questions,” Ianto warned, pressing his lips together. “And don’t respond to Johnny’s jokes with your own; you’ll only make the situation worse.”_

_“And David and Mica?” Jack teases. “Should I be giving them ten quid to leave me alone like you do?”_

_Ianto rolls his eyes. “Considering you have a grandson their age who adores you, I think you should be okay.” Then he freezes, eyes frenzied with horror. He turns to Jack: “Please do not mention anything about Alice or Steven to Rhiannon.”_

_Rhiannon’s had a hard enough time reconciling with the fact that Ianto catches aliens for a living rather than sign paperwork for the government - which he also technically does - and that he’s dating his very male boss, although she has been fairly supportive. Ianto doesn’t want to add on that his boss is also immortal, from the future, and has a grandson._

_All of a sudden, Jack is leaning towards him, gently rubbing his thumb along Ianto’s cheekbones. “Hey, hey, it’ll be okay,” he murmurs, voice low and soothing. “Everything will go fine. I’ll make sure of it.”_

_“What if this is a disaster?” Ianto frets, his heart pounding out of his chest. It’s only one of the two loves of his life meeting his only remaining family. Rhiannon and Jack are two separate halves of his life that were never meant to meet, but a chance meeting at a Rift call had Rhiannon insisting on inviting Jack to Ianto’s birthday dinner._

_“It’s not going to be,” Jack insists, cradling Ianto’s hand in his. “You know why?”_

_“Why?”_

_Jack’s grin widens. “Because we’re together. And when we’re together, nothing can go wrong.”_

_And then, he’s kissing Ianto softly and sweetly, and Ianto is melting into his touch, under the feel of Jack’s lips against his. He thinks he’ll never stop falling for Jack, would follow this man to the ends of the earth, to the ends of the universe, perhaps even into death…_

...and he did.

“There’s a planet on the edge of the Morpheus Galaxy,” River had told him. “It’s called Tenebrosity, and on Tenebrosity grow these poppies, the most vivid red you’ll ever see. Their effect is potent; it’s not like a high. It’s more like falling into darkness, almost better than sex, better than death, the perfect cure for insomnia and melancholy.”

When Ianto awakens from where he lies in the field of poppies, heart _aching_ , face still damn with tear tracks, he knows that River lied. It isn’t her fault, of course. She’s young, doesn’t know any better; she doesn’t know death as well as Ianto does. To her, it is a slightly familiar stranger. To Ianto, it is an old friend who never changes. 

No, death is better than the darkness Ianto’s felt on Tenebrosity, because at least death doesn’t give him the false hope of being anything but _alone_.

“Happy fucking birthday to me,” Ianto murmurs bitterly, wondering if there will ever be an end to his eternity of suffering.

* * *

**5090**

**Mirai**

“Duck!” the pretty, purple-skinned alien screeches as she drops behind the spaceship, pulling Ianto down with her, her sonic blaster aimed above her head. Bursts of garishly-colored sonic blasts explode and fly above their heads, singing the tips of Ianto’s hair. “We have to get to our ship!”

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” Ianto calls to her over the sounds of the battle. “You said you worked in exports.”

“I didn’t say my work was legal.” The alien scowls before swiftly popping up and firing her blaster. Judging by the resounding _thuds_ , she manages to take out a few of her targets. “Besides, _you_ came to _me_ for transport.”

Ianto’s fingers twitch reflexively for a weapon, but the holster at his hip is empty. His blasters and other possessions are aboard their ship. They’d made a pit stop on this practically deserted planet for fuel, but he hadn’t counted on his pilot, the only one he’s found skilled enough to fly him through the asteroid clusters in this galaxy, to be a wanted fugitive. Now, the Judoon are firing on them, and Ianto and this pilot - whose name he stupidly never really bothered asking - are pinned down two docking ports away from their ship.

He inhales sharply, rubbing his hands together. “Right, so here’s the plan. The moment they stop firing, we run for the next docking port and shelter there.” The alien nods in agreement.

They wait for a few more minutes for a sudden moment of silence, and as soon as it comes, Ianto nods; they sprint forward, and Ianto only narrowly manages to pull his pilot behind the next spaceship before the Judoon begin firing again. Ianto and the pilot continue this way once more, making it to the next port. They rest briefly, panting harsh. Ianto tips his head back.

From here, it’s just a single sprint to their ship, and the pilot has to hope to be fast enough to unlock the ship door so they can get inside before being struck by one of the Judoon’s sonic blasters. 

“Ah, this is gonna suck,” the pilot groans, raking a hand through her sweaty violet hair. 

“You go first,” Ianto advises. “You can get the door open.” He wishes he had his sonic screwdriver with him right now; he’s never leaving it out of his coat pocket again. Then the last of the Judoon blasters fire empty, and Ianto hears them bark orders to reload, handily translated by his vortex manipulator. “ _Run!_ ”

His chest aches, lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, but he stays in motion, racing forward, eyes fixed on the pilot before him. They’re almost there, only several meters away. He thinks he’ll probably pass out from the exhaustion once they’re safe inside the ship.

The pilot screams, but her words are intelligible to Ianto’s ears. There’s no need for him to understand, however; it was clearly a warning, one that fails. Ianto can smell the flesh of his back burning from the sonic blast’s impact before the pain hits, and when it does, he’s grateful for the instantaneous death.

Ianto comes back to life with a sudden gasp. 

The Judoon are gone, but so is the pilot; she’s either dead, captured, or somehow escaped, but since the ship is still docked close to Ianto, he reckons the Judoon got her. But most importantly, the ship is still here, and even though he doesn’t really know how to fly it, he can figure it out.

“Not the worst birthday you’ve had,” he tells himself, but dying on his birthday is never fun.

* * *

**5096**

**Boeshane Peninsula**

“Watch your step,” Jack warns as he leads Ianto down the gradual slope, hand gentle at Ianto’s back. “I slipped here many times as a kid.”

The blindfold can’t keep Ianto from rolling his eyes. “Jack, I’ve been all over Boeshane. Just tell me where you’re taking me.”

“That’d ruin the surprise,” teases Jack, his tone adoring. He rubs small circles into Ianto’s skin. 

“Immortality doesn’t guarantee maturity,” murmurs Ianto and hears Jack chuckle. “This surprise better be worth it.”

“Trust me.” The smile is audible in Jack’s voice. “It is.” Finally, several unbearably long moments later, Jack stops moving, and so Ianto also stumbles to a stop. “You can take your blindfold off now.”

With steady hands, Ianto slips the blindfold off and gasps.

The beach they’re on is one he’s been to before once or twice, but it is less familiar to him than most of Boeshane; it’s essentially a small cove at the base of a cliff, a small strip of clean white sand that eventually verges into crystalline water. The beach is solely illuminated by the faint moonlight and the twinkling stars and from the soft light of candles set along a blanket draped over the sand. Ianto can see a bottle of alcohol - most likely Boeshane’s champagne equivalent - set on the blanket alongside two delicate-looking glasses.

He turns to Jack who actually looks slightly bashful. “You did all this for me?”

Jack nods nervously, lips tugged into a slight smile. “It’s Boeshanian tradition to count stars on one’s birthday, but it’s specifically a Thane tradition to come here. My parents brought me here for every single birthday.” He hesitates. “Now it’s a Harkness-Jones tradition.”

Ianto’s heart swells with warmth and affection for this immortal man whom he loves. Whom he married. Whom he’s going to spend the rest of eternity with - quite literally. “I love you,” he tells Jack.

“I never get tired of hearing you say that,” Jack confesses quietly. “I love you too.” Gently, he takes Ianto’s hand. “Come sit down with me.”

Jack drops down onto the blanket first and then pulls Ianto in between his legs until his back rests against Jack’s chest. If Ianto turns his head precisely, he will be able to hear the constant rhythm of Jack’s heart, which he finds incredibly reassuring. 

“Show me the stars,” Ianto says, his skin alight with electricity when it brushes against Jack’s.

“My mom used to make up stories for each constellation,” Jack begins. “She told me that the star all the way over there, on the horizon…”

Jack’s voice is a soothing murmur as he narrates the stories from his childhood, echoing his mother’s words. Ianto can hear the ghost of the beautiful woman he once met with each new star Jack mentions. Eventually, they run out of nighttime sky and stars, and the candles burn out. 

As the moonlight and starlight blazes brighter, Jack stands and holds out his hand to Ianto who takes it; Jack then pulls him close, and they begin to sway, right there on that beach that Jack’s parents used to bring him to, to music that no one else can hear but the two of them. They stay swaying, Jack’s heart beats its constant rhythm, and it’s just the two of them, frozen in that moment. All of time and space await them, but if Ianto could, he would live in this perfect moment together, this moment on the best birthday he’s had in two thousand years. 

Jack’s given him the best gift he could have ever asked for. Jack’s given Ianto himself, and Ianto will never be alone again. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed that!
> 
> So here are the squares I completed. Immortality...was the entire thing really with immortal!Ianto. The anniversary was the anniversary of Ianto's wife Ariadne's death. Cultural differences and Boeshane was the Boeshane birthday tradition of counting stars. Water was the beach where Jack brought Ianto. And the gift Ianto was given was essentially Jack all along. 
> 
> Kinda cheesy, I know, but I like it.
> 
> Lemme know if there were any certain references or moments you enjoyed or what you would like to see in future fool me once, fool me twice installments. Gimme your spinoff ideas; nothing is off the table!
> 
> Find me on tumblr [here](http://princess-of-the-worlds.tumblr.com/) or on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/rajkumarinik). I tweet and reblog mostly Torchwood with occasionally amusing commentary on nonsense. You can also reblog the post for this fic [here](https://princess-of-the-worlds.tumblr.com/post/626859475089899520/title-moments-in-grayscale-and-eternity-in).


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